


The Very Ecstasy of Love

by ShowMeAHero



Series: (I've Tasted Blood And) I Want More [1]
Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Cute, Dress kink, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Pre-Canon, References to Hamlet, YAAAAAAAS, also shirtless idiots, henry cares about victor a lot and some other stuff, seriously ridiculous fluff, victor is a nerd loser who just cares about pancreases and henry clerval in a dress today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry wears a dress. Victor likes that more than he expected to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Very Ecstasy of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy/gifts).



> [Izzy](https://twitter.com/IzzyChao) wrote to me and said:  
> "OKAY ARE U READY FOR THIS so we know that when he was little henry liked to read and act in plays? like he would try to get victor and elizabeth to be in plays w him?? so like. ok this would probably be easy to create in a non-modern au but like henry does more stuff w acting and because he’s super pretty and 'feminine' (as described by victor himself) he gets cast with female roles..... gets to wear pretty dresses..... flusters the fuck out of victor... im thinking before-canon, like when theyre 16-17? victor is still a happy [albeit nerdy] loser. take it wherever u want from here B)"
> 
> Who am I to say no to such a request?

Henry has spent a lot of time with Victor. A great deal of time, in fact - so much time that he knows that, at this point, he can drop by anytime, but he cannot expect Victor to come to the door when he knocks. He hurried up the stairs, his skirts gathered in one hand to keep him from tripping over them, and pushed the grand front door open without hesitating

“Is that you, Henry?” Caroline called from the sitting room. Henry skidded to a stop and looked down at himself, at his attire, then lifted one shoulder. He changed direction towards the sitting room, dropping the skirts as soon as he entered. He dipped into a dramatic curtsy, and Caroline laughed, light like bells. Henry grinned when he stood back up. Caroline was tall and beautiful, like her son, and Henry loved to spend time with her.

“It is so wonderful to see you, Madam,” Henry said, crossing over to her to embrace her. Caroline squeezed him close.

“How many times, Henry, do I have to ask you to call me Caroline?” Caroline kissed his forehead and pulled back.

“At least once more, as always,” Henry laughed. Caroline held out a hand and motioned for him to spin, and Henry did, theatrically, letting Caroline get a look at all sides.

“And what is this for?” Caroline asked, reaching out to run her fingers over the bodice. Henry played with the honey-colored fabric of the skirt at his waist.

“I auditioned for a stage performance of _Hamlet_ , and not nearly enough women did the same,” Henry informed her. “I have been cast as Ophelia.”

“You will make a lovely Ophelia,” Caroline complimented him, reaching to run her thumb over Henry’s cheek, wiping away a small smudge Henry had not even noticed. Henry grinned and flushed. “If you are looking for Victor, he is upstairs in his bedroom. Likely waiting for you. Tell him it is very nearly time for supper, won’t you? And you are more than welcome to join us, of course, as always.”

“I will. Thank you very much, Madam,” Henry said, stretching up to kiss her on the cheek. Caroline laughed.

“ _Caroline_.”

“No, my name is Henry,” Henry joked, curtsying again and leaving Caroline to her business. He took the stairs two at a time, stumbled, then moved at slower pace, one hand on the railing and one hand holding up his skirts. He reached the landing carefully and hurried down the hallway. He knocked twice on Victor’s door once he reached it before pushing it open.

“Hello, Victor!” Henry greeted him, shuffling to close the door behind him. Victor, hunched over his desk, did not turn, but merely raised a hand in acknowledgement. “How has your day been, then?”

“My day?” Victor mumbled, focusing on the anatomical sketch under the charcoal in his hands. “Is the day over?”

“Oh, nearly,” Henry answered, debating whether or not to take a seat before realizing he was essentially unsure of how to sit in such a dress. He leaned against the wall by Victor instead, folding his arms across his chest. “The sun was just beginning to go down when I arrived.”

“I would say the day has gone very well, then,” Victor answered, straightening out of his hunch, raising his head from his drawing and cracking his neck to one side, then the other. “I believe I may have found a way to recreate an entire human pancreas, if you can believe that.”

“No,” Henry gasped dramatically. “Tell me more, Victor, I am absolutely _desperate_ to hear all about your pancreatic progressions.”

“I will ignore your _considerable_ attitude and continue because I am absolutely desperate to discuss the pancreas,” Victor continued, dropping his charcoal and lifting his sketch up. Henry stepped forward and leaned over his shoulder, inspecting it. “As you know, I have been having a great deal of trouble developing the endocrine tissues, specifically the acini, which-”

Henry looked up when Victor stopped short. He realized Victor had finally noticed his dress. Henry stepped back to let him admire it, take in the whole effect of the dress.

“What…” Victor trailed off, then cleared his throat. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I received word on my audition for _Hamlet_ ,” Henry informed him. “I will be playing Ophelia. Not enough women auditioned.”

“Oh.” Victor cleared his throat a second time. He laid his drawing down on his desktop and turned towards Henry. “It looks… nice.”

“Only nice?” Henry asked, pulling up the skirts and turning. Victor’s cheeks turned a fantastic shade of crimson, and he dropped his head into his palm. “What could possibly be wrong, Victor, darling?”

“Nothing,” Victor muttered into his palms. Henry stepped carefully closer and pulled his hand away from his face. “Is that even period-accurate? It looks like something Elizabeth would wear-”

“Funny,” Henry interrupted, plucking at the fabric by his waist, “I actually borrowed this from Elizabeth. I likely will not be using it for the production. I just wanted to adjust to wearing the skirt, you know.”

“I don’t know if it’s necessary you wear it about town,” Victor continued, his whole face deliciously dark red at this point. Henry raised an eyebrow.

“I am not exactly ‘about town’,” Henry reminded him. He threaded their fingers together, playing with Victor’s hand absently while he spoke. “I just came over to visit. I thought your family might find it amusing. And you, of course.”

“Of course,” Victor murmured, watching their hands twist together for a moment before he turned back to examine the dress. “It is very nice. You’ll be playing Ophelia, then.”

“I will.”

“Ahh.” Victor pulled at Henry’s hand, and Henry leaned down to meet him, pressed their foreheads together. “ _‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.’_ ”

“You really do know everything,” Henry teased, his voice soft. He straightened up and tugged at Victor until he stood. Henry’s own hand was streaked to the wrist with charcoal smudges from Victor’s fingers, and he walked Victor backwards to the bed until the backs of Victor’s knees bumped against it. Henry tipped his head back to grin up at him.

“You will do an excellent job,” Victor assured him. He reached up with his free hand and unwound the leather binding that tied Henry’s long, strawberry-blonde hair up, and it fell in daring curls down his back. He ran his fingers through it, gently untangling a couple of knots as he went. “Very beautiful.”

“You like the dress,” Henry accused, smiling. He pushed lightly, and Victor fell back onto his bed. Henry lifted the skirts and climbed onto his lap. He let his hands rest on Victor’s shoulders. “You think it cute?”

Victor raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips tightly together. Henry ran his hands down Victor’s arms, lifting his thin wrists and placed his hands along his own waist. Victor took a deep breath.

“I do,” Victor answered finally. Henry dipped his head down, pressing his lips smoothly to the corner of Victor’s mouth. He pushed Victor backwards until he was completely reclined against the mattress. He grazed light kisses down his neck, unwinding Victor’s sloppily-knotted bow tie as he did so. He tossed it to the side, and Victor turned his head distractedly to follow its path. Henry took advantage of the opportunity, sucking a mark into Victor’s neck.

“My father will notice,” Victor breathed, grabbing at the folds of fabric gathered around Henry’s hips. Henry nipped at his skin and pulled away, dragging himself up to meet Victor’s eyes.

“He won’t,” Henry promised, leaning in gingerly and pressing his lips to Victor’s temple. Victor turned his head up, catching Henry’s lips and opening their mouths. Henry worked at undoing the buttons on Victor’s shirt, tugging at them until they separated. Victor’s hands scrambled at the material of the dress, pulling at random places, clearly clueless. Henry withdrew, breathless, sitting back on Victor’s thighs. Victor propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth red and his shirt untucked and half-undone.

“This is new to you,” Henry stated, not asked, and Victor inclined his head slightly.

“I have never…” Victor paused for a moment. Henry loved to watch him think. “I have never had a reaction to a dress. Not quite like this.”

“Very new, then,” Henry amended, reaching around to the back of the bodice and unlacing it on his own. The dress loosened at once, slipping off his shoulders. Victor sat up completely and pulled the sleeves away, pushing the dress down to Henry’s hips. He ran his hands over the freckled skin of Henry’s slim, muscled torso. Henry unfastened Victor’s buttons until his shirt was completely undone, then held onto the rolled-up ends of the sleeves and pulled. He discarded the shirt on the floor with the bow tie and grinned.

“That is completely alright, Victor,” Henry promised, pushing Victor down onto his back, tracing his fingertips gently in absent-minded patterns on Victor’s pale skin. Henry dropped his head down, his hair falling like a curtain around his and Victor’s faces, and he grinned. He could feel the rise and fall of Victor’s breath in the thin chest under his palms.

“I am… not so sure-”

“I am,” Henry assured him. Victor’s charcoal fingerprints were all over the dress, decorating the hips and the sleeves; the bodice was smudged with dark grey. Henry’s chest was steadily becoming a mess under his hands. “Whatever you want, Victor. It is all alright. Never feel ashamed.” Henry dropped his head down until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “Never with me. You can tell me anything. You just be Victor Frankenstein, and leave the rest to me.”

Victor’s sky-blue eyes darted back and forth between Henry’s bright bottle-green, and he finally just nodded slightly. “I trust you.”

The corners of Henry’s lips turned up of their own accord, and he pushed their foreheads together for a moment before he kissed him breathless again. When Henry finally pulled back, Victor was flushed, red-faced and breathing heavily.

“I love you,” Henry murmured, dropping down onto the bed beside Victor and tucking himself into Victor’s side. Victor wound an arm around him, tilting his head when Henry pressed his lips to his neck.

“Why’d you stop, then?” Victor asked, threading his fingers through Henry’s long, wild curls. Henry raised his head slightly to meet Victor’s eyes.

“Because it’s nearly time for supper, which is what I was meant to tell you when I first arrived,” Henry told him, nosing along Victor’s jawline. Victor reached down, playing with the dress fabric absently.

“So,” Victor began. “This is… new.”

“Yes, we have established that,” Henry reminded him. “But, like I said. All alright.”

Victor paused. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Henry.”

“You are more than welcome.” Henry dropped his head down to rest on Victor’s shoulder. “I should probably borrow something to wear. I can only imagine what your brothers and father would think of me if I arrived at supper wearing such a thing.”

“Of course,” Victor answered, encircling one of Henry’s wrists in his large hand. “I would recommend leaving it up here in my room, though. To ensure its safety, so you may return it to Elizabeth intact.”

“Certainly,” Henry agreed, his smile widening slightly.

“Perhaps you should stay overnight tonight, as well,” Victor continued, rubbing his thumb into Henry’s pulse point. “It has gotten rather late, after all. Even later after supper, I’d imagine.”

“That does tend to happen,” Henry concurred, now completely grinning. He watched Victor’s long fingers against his freckled skin in quiet contentment.

“I’ve also heard the weather might be nasty tonight,” Victor added. “It would probably be safest if you stayed over.”

“And the dress.”

“By extension.”

“Naturally.” Henry pressed a last kiss to Victor’s lips before standing from the bed and pulling off the dress. Victor sat on the very edge of the mattress, making like he was helping to take the dress off but actually being shockingly unhelpful. Henry batted his hands away and tugged the entire ensemble off. He draped the dress over the back of Victor’s desk chair.

“Do you have any clean clothes?” Henry asked, making his way to Victor’s wardrobe. Victor came up behind him, dropping his head to hook his chin over Henry’s shoulder.

“Likely not _completely_ clean,” Victor admitted. Henry laughed and picked through the clothes, picking out the cleanest ones and pulling them on, trying his best to work around Victor’s hands.

“I will stay over,” Henry answered, once he was tucking his shirt into his trousers. Victor found Henry’s leather strap and bound up his hair again for him. “Under one condition.”

“Of course.” Victor finished tying the strap and stepped back to find his own shirt. “What would that condition be, Clerval?”

“That you will try on the dress, as well,” Henry answered, tucking a loose strand of hair into the tie. Victor looked up from the sleeves of his shirt, his face flushing a dark red.

“I suppose, if that is the only condition, I will accept it,” Victor said, slowly. Henry crossed to him, fixing his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs before working to button the rest of it for him, since he was clearly past properly functioning.

“You suppose.”

“I suppose.”

Henry tucked Victor’s shirt in, straightening the hem as he went. He ran his palms over Victor’s chest, smoothing out the wrinkles. Victor reached up and caught his wrists.

“I really enjoyed the dress,” Victor began, and Henry laughed.

“I would say that _that_ is an understatement,” Henry interrupted, and Victor reached for his bow tie. He pulled it under his collar and began to knot it, but Henry batted his hands away and did it himself.

“I really enjoyed the dress, Henry Clerval, but I also very much enjoy it when you wear my clothes,” Victor murmured lowly. He leaned in once Henry finished and caught his lips again. “I love you.”

“I know,” Henry replied. “I am well aware.”

“Boys! Supper!” Caroline called from the bottom of the staircase. Victor jolted back as if electrocuted. Henry just laughed.

“Are you presentable, Mr. Frankenstein?” Henry adjusted Victor’s collar, pulling it up a bit to cover his neck more completely.

“Likely not,” Victor answered. “Neither are you, however, so I feel like we are at least on level ground.”

Henry pulled open the door for him, gesturing dramatically for Victor to pass through before him. Victor held out his arm, and Henry linked his elbow through Victor’s.

“Oh,” Victor exclaimed. “I never finished telling you about the pancreatic tissue.”

“Woe is us,” Henry sighed. Victor rushed on without him, stumbling over his words in his rush to get them out. Henry pat his hand and led him to the dining room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's [Henry's dress](http://vintage13.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/1790s1.jpg), chosen by Izzy.
> 
> The title was taken from Hamlet, actually. "This is the very ecstasy of love."
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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